Your Heart Belongs to Me
by 8NobodyKnows8
Summary: Happy Birthday Italy! ...Im gonna get shot for this.


Happy (psychotic) Birthday Italy~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters**

**(Please review!)**

Blood covered the walls. Smeared, splattered, and speckled all across the white paint, staining them until they were stripped of all purity. The entire floor was drenched in the substance. Rivers of blood flowed through grout-filled channels created by its once-clean tiles.

Giggling echoed throughout the room.

The faint squishing of bloodied organs was the only music that accompanied the soft singing. "Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me~!" Italy giggled once more as he lay down on the red-soaked floor. He stared at the knife in his hand, licking it clean of the metallic liquid that covered it, savoring its taste. He stared at his reflection in the blade.

His face was splattered with blood, covering his pale skin and practically dying his auburn hair, a small drop of blood remaining on his curl. A sweet, crooked smile engraved itself onto his lips, various giggles escaping from them. And then of course…his eyes. Those beautiful golden brown eyes shown red and disturbed. It was rare he let that gaze show through, that's why he never opened his eyes. _They made me do it, and now look what happened._ Italy looked gleefully at his decimated prey. Bits of flesh still clung loosely to where faces would have been. Eyes, glazed over and dull, were strewn about the ground, lacking their proper home.

Italy knelt down and stroked a piece of blond hair, which shown like a beacon amongst the sea of red. As he did so, memories came flooding back to him. A sweet voice echoed though his ears. His own voice.

'_Doitsu, Doitsu!'_

"No! Stop it!" he hissed.

'_Doitsu, wait up!'_

_A sigh. 'What is it Italia?'_ That voice. That beautiful voice intertwined with that ever-familiar German accent.

"Stop it! Get out!" he screamed. Sitting up, he clutched his head, pulling at his hair trying to make the voices go away.

'_I made some pasta, Doitsu. Come inside!'_

'_You skipped out on your training, again, just to make pasta? Why am I not surprised?'_ The 'other Italy' whined and the memory faded…faded into a wish.

The 'other Germany' slipped an arm around the 'other Italy's' waist and gently cupped his cheek with his other hand. Their lips were slowly brought together, moving in perfect synch.

The wish morphed into memory once more and the 'other Italy's' face was distorted. Instead, the 'other Germany' was kissing a new face. One with slightly darker hair that framed an ever-present scowl. Germany kissed Romano fervently, who returned it with fiery passion.

"NO!" Italy screeched, tears running down his cheeks. He curled into a ball, ripping at his hair and sobbing as the memory replayed in his head over and over. Anger built up inside of him as he relived that horrifying moment. _See? It's their fault! They made me do it…_Though the tears and sobs, a dangerous smile played on his lips. _And now look at them…_

Empty, bloody faces looked back at Italy. A tangled mess of torn uniforms and misplaced organs lay in a large heap at the center of the room. Italy crawled over to the pile, that distorted smile permanently etched onto his mouth. He began digging rigorously through the mound of flesh, finally finding his prize.

All that was left of Germany's body was a ripped up torso with a few tattered limbs and an unrecognizable face. His ribcage was cracked open to reveal a whole slew of gore, which spilled down the front of him like an endless waterfall. Italy took a moment, admiring his handiwork. He remembered every cut, every scream, and every beg. They all fueled such intense emotions within him. All of which coiled inside of him, like a hungry serpent, craving satisfaction. _They can't call me useless anymore, now can they?_ He held the disfigured corps closely, hugging it; half hoping it would hug back. It was only until his vision was completely blurred that Italy realized he was still crying.

He held him close, sobbing helplessly. "W-why Doitsu…why? Why did you pick him and not me?" His grip tightened. "You were supposed to be with _me_."

Italy let him go, lowering him slowly onto his lap. He then eyed the gaping hole in Germany's chest. He reached a careful hand deep into the bloody cavity, feeling around, searching for his prize. When at last he found it, he lifted it out, using his knife to cut it free of its confines.

Letting the rest of the body fall to the ground, Italy cupped the lifeless heart, treating it as if it were a priceless treasure. He let the knife fall to the floor, disregarding the vast amount of blood dripping from his hands. "Now you'll always belong to me, Doitsu…your heart will always be mine." He raised the bloody organ to his lips, gently kissing it, tasting the sweet metallic substance. This small act sent shivers down Italy's spine. Germany was his forever. As long as he had this, he would be fine. He would never be lonely.

He cradled his prize, bringing it to his own chest. "Thank you for the present Doitsu," he murmured. He then began to rock back and forth, singing to himself. "Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday dear-"

He stopped, looking up as if he had forgotten something. Or rather, _remembered_ something.

He took the heart and placed it in the left jacket pocket of his already blood-stained uniform. He felt its weight, and closed his eyes for a moment. _Now your heart will always be close to mine, Doitsu._ Then, pulling himself out of that reverie, Italy's eyes shot open, a new purpose filling them.

Crawling back to the pile, Italy dug through it once more. Amidst the carnage, Italy found the other face. He picked up the decapitated head, more tears falling from his eyes. Huddling in a corner, Italy stroked the chocolate brown hair like Greece would one of his cats. He laced his fingers through the bloodied locks, gently tracing Romano's every feature. The shallow cavity where his eyes should have been remained empty. Blood spilled down his pale cheeks and some leaked from his mouth. In an odd way, he looked peaceful, his usual scowl seeming to have melted away from his thin lips. Italy smiled at this, stroking a stray piece of hair from Romano's face. He then leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "And a Happy Birthday to you too, _fratello_."

Giggles filled the room once more.

O_O I had originally intended to write Italy a cute fluffy one-shot for his birthday…I don't think that happened. Eh, it's fine. I had been craving to write something dark for a while now anyway. It may have been a bit too much…

Anywho, please review and tell me how crappy this was!


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